The first police car I was ever in … my mother took me to see Moonraker somewhere in downtown Brooklyn … I remember the shuttle motif, and Jaws’ nasty silver grin … and afterwards, I wandered behind as my mother strutted down the sidewalk … I think I got distracted by a TV in a window, really … honestly … and before you knew it — nothing but legs pacing by, cold and impersonal, and I was lost … started crying before you know it (hey, I was 7), looking to the left and right, searching for my mom’s slacks … people stooping to console and inquire ”You lost, little boy?” … cops show up soon enough, questions and tissues, then in the back of the car for the short ride back to Bay Ridge, 59th St (between 8th and 9th) … the worst part was my friends on the block scoping me out as we cruised up the street, checking me out with wary, suspicious eyes … I was guilty before I even hit the sidewalk.

The next day, in the car lot a few buildings down, John Fox and Anthony DeStefano beat me down behind a rotting brown Charger. I remember the car because it looked just like my father’s, and even at the time, the whole thing seemed significant … it was like being in a Raymond Carver or Richard Ford story, saying to myself, over and over, You will never forget this moment.…